#dailyprompt-2000 — Public Fediverse posts

A twin to The Days of the Dreams.

The black fog slid across the terracotta floor of the tea shop like a living river of ice. Every glass jar on Moira’s shelves began to frost over, the dried herbs inside freezing white. The warm, comforting smell of chamomile and old paper was completely swallowed by the bitter scent of deep winter and ancient dust.

Toe, the black cat, stood on the very edge of the oak counter. He hissed, a sharp, angry sound, while Ashwaganda stood tall beside him, his orange fur puffed out like a shield.

“Stay behind me, Elio,” Moira whispered. Her breath was a thick white cloud in the freezing air.

Elio walked slowly out of the back kitchen. He was holding the heavy wooden bowl with both hands. The ossobuco and the fresh, golden pasta were steaming perfectly, radiating a deep, rich heat. The smell of the roasted meat, the sweet tomatoes, and the old wine fought against the cold fog, creating a wall of warm air around the chef.

“Where do I put it?” Elio asked, his teeth chattering from the sudden, unnatural cold.

“On the counter. Right between the two books,” Moira ordered.

Elio stepped forward. The shadows on the walls seemed to reach for him, long black fingers stretching out to grab the bowl. But the heat of the traditional food pushed them back. Elio placed the wooden bowl carefully onto the heavy oak wood, right between the dusty blue cover of The Days of the Dreams and the pristine white cover of its newly found twin.

The moment the bowl touched the wood, the black fog stopped moving along the floor.

Slowly, the fog began to rise. It gathered in the center of the room, pulling itself up into a tall, towering pillar of pure darkness. It had no face and no eyes, but Moira and Elio could feel it looking at them. It felt like a bottomless, starving void—an emptiness that had not been warm in a thousand years.

Elio took a step back, terrified.

Moira did not move. She stood tall, placed one hand on her blue book, and looked directly into the dark shadow.

“We offer you the memory of the hearth,” Moira said in a loud, clear voice. She remembered the words of the riddle. “We bring you the marrow of the bone, slow-cooked in the tears of the hills. We bind it with the golden sheet, stretched only by human hands.”

The towering shadow let out a sound. It was not a voice, but a low, hollow wind that rattled the teacups on their shelves.

The dark shape leaned forward, hovering directly over the steaming wooden bowl.

Elio grabbed Moira’s arm, ready to pull her away. But Moira shook her head. “Watch,” she whispered.

The shadow did not eat the food like a person or an animal would. Instead, it opened wide and breathed in. The thick, rich steam rising from the hot pasta and the roasted marrow was pulled straight up into the darkness.

As the shadow swallowed the heat, the smell, and the soul of the carefully cooked meal, something amazing happened. The pure black fog began to turn gray. The terrible, freezing cold in the room began to soften.

The shadow breathed in again, drinking the human effort, the patience, and the tradition that Elio had rolled into the pasta dough. The darkness turned lighter and lighter, until it looked like ordinary morning mist.

With one final, quiet sigh that sounded almost peaceful, the mist evaporated completely into the air.

The desk lamp flickered and turned back on. The frost on the glass jars melted into tiny drops of water. The fire in the back room roared back to life, filling the tea shop with warmth once again.

Ashwaganda stopped puffing his fur and let out a long, happy purr. Toe jumped down from the counter and started to wash his paws.

Elio slowly walked up to the oak counter and looked into the wooden bowl.

The ossobuco and the pasta were still there. But they had completely changed. The rich red tomato sauce was totally gray. The golden yellow of the egg pasta was dull and white. The meat looked dry as dust. There was no steam, no smell, and no heat.

“It took the life out of it,” Elio whispered, staring at the bowl in shock. “It ate the essence of the food.”

“It ate the memory,” Moira corrected gently. She closed the covers of both the blue and white books. “It was starving for warmth. You gave it a meal made with care, patience, and human hands. A machine could never have made a meal that could defeat a shadow, Elio.”

Elio looked at his flour-covered hands. He had always cooked for awards, for speed, and for modern perfection. But tonight, he had cooked to save a village.

“I understand now,” the chef said softly. He looked at Moira with true respect. “Tradition is not just about the past. It is about keeping the warmth alive for the future.”

Moira smiled. She took the wooden bowl of gray, empty food and tossed it into the trash bin.

“Now,” Moira said, tying her apron back on. “Since the shadow ate your dinner, how about we go into the kitchen and make another batch of that hand-rolled pasta? Just for us this time.”

Elio smiled back, his fear finally gone. “Only if you let me show you how to chop the wild mallow for the salad.”

“It is peaceful, Just like good cooking should be.”

Elio jumped back in fear. His flour-covered hands hit the wooden shelves behind him, knocking over a small jar of dried apple slices. The jar hit the floor, but neither of them looked at it.

The icy blue light from the white leather book grew brighter. It filled the dark tea shop, making the shadows on the walls look long and strange.

“Moira,” Elio whispered, his voice shaking. “What is happening? Books do not glow.”

“Stand back, Elio,” Moira said. Her voice was very steady, even though her heart was beating fast. She did not look away from the rusted iron box.

Toe, the black cat, let out a loud, angry yowl. He jumped down from the top shelf and stood on the counter next to Moira. Ashwaganda joined him. Both cats stared at the white book. Their fur was standing up, making them look twice as big.

Suddenly, the heavy cover of the white book flipped open all by itself.

Elio gasped and grabbed Moira’s arm. “Did you see that? There is no wind in here!”

Moira gently pulled her arm away. “I saw it. Do not be afraid. But do not touch it.”

She leaned over the counter to look at the open pages. The pages inside the white book were not yellow or creamy like her own book. They were completely black, like the night sky.

As they watched, glowing silver letters began to write themselves across the dark paper. The writing moved quickly, spelling out a message in the cold blue light.

Moira read the words out loud:

The twin wakes from the dark earth. The cook was called to the water. The old hunger returns to the hills.

Elio stepped closer, his eyes wide. He looked at the glowing words, then he looked at Moira. “The cook was called to the water? That means me. I went to the water to find the wild mallow. Are you telling me this… this magic book made me want to go there?”

Moira looked at him sadly. “Magic is like a magnet, Elio. It pulls things to it. It pulls people to it. You thought the wild mallow was your own idea for a new recipe. But the book was waiting to be found. It used you to wake up.”

Elio rubbed his face with his hands. He looked like he was trying to wake up from a very strange dream. “This is crazy. This is a quiet village in Italy. We make pasta and drink tea. Magic is not real.”

Moira knew it was time to share her biggest secret. If Elio was part of this now, he needed to know the truth.

She reached under the heavy oak counter. She pulled out her own book, The Days of the Dreams, with its dusty blue cover and the silver sleeping cat.

Elio stared at it. “There are two of them?”

“Yes,” Moira said quietly. “Mine is the blue book. I found it years ago. It helps protect Speranza. It warns me when danger is coming. But I did not know it had a twin.”

Moira placed her blue book on the counter, right next to the rusted metal box that held the white book.

As soon as the two books were close to each other, the air in the room felt heavy. A warm, golden light began to glow from Moira’s blue book. It mixed with the icy blue light of the white book.

The silver letters in the white book faded away. New words began to write themselves, but this time, the words flowed across both books at the same time. The writing started on the black pages of the white book and finished on the yellow pages of the blue book.

Light and shadow meet again. The gates of the old hunger are open. You must feed the shadow, or it will eat the village.

The light from both books flashed brightly, and then, suddenly, they both went totally dark. The glowing stopped. The shop was quiet again.

Elio was breathing heavily. He pointed at the black pages of the white book. “Feed the shadow? What does that mean, Moira? Feed it what?”

Moira looked down at her hands. They were shaking just a little bit. She thought about the warning. The old hunger returns.

“I don’t know yet,” Moira admitted, looking up at the worried chef. “But I think your cooking is going to be very important, Elio. And I think we are going to need more than just wild mallow to save Speranza this time.”

The Rabbit Paradox: How Fixing Australian History Handed Power to the Emus

If you could erase one event from history, what would it be?

If humanity had a single, golden lever to undo one moment in time, the gut instinct is always the catastrophic: wars, plagues, assassinations, or the burning of ancient libraries. Yet, history has a cruel way of teaching us that removing a monster often leaves a vacuum for a worse one, and curing a plague early might shift the balance of populations into brutal famines.

If I could erase one single, deceptively small event from the tapestry of time, it would be the 1859 introduction of twenty-four wild European rabbits into Victoria, Australia, by a well-meaning English settler named Thomas Austin.

Austin famously remarked that the introduction of a few rabbits could do little harm and might provide a touch of home, in addition to a spot of hunting. That single afternoon of nostalgic homesickness unleashed what became the fastest mammal invasion in biological history. Within decades, billions of rabbits had swept across the entire continent, stripping away root systems, turning fertile valleys into desolate red dust bowls, starving native marsupials to extinction, and warping an entire nation’s ecology forever. Erasing Austin’s little wooden crate of bunnies would save tens of millions of native lives, protect the fragile topsoil, and spare generations of farmers endless grief.

Yet, tampering with time never goes cleanly.

When the temporal distortion device hummed to life in our subterranean laboratory, the logic felt airtight. We targeted the Victorian docks in October 1859. The mission was surgically simple: intercept the shipping manifest, quietly drop the crate of twenty-four rabbits overboard into the English Channel before departure, and allow the timeline to settle into an era of green, unbroken Australian flora.

The machine whined, a sound like tearing silk, and reality collapsed inward.

The immediate side effect was not silence, but an aggressive, screeching shift across the digital fabric of the universe. In an instant, the timeline tried to stitch its threads back together. Whole economies that had been built around rabbit-proof fencing, Australian agriculture, and outback ecology collapsed and rearranged themselves into new digital systems.

Across modern offices, computer terminals flickered violently. Systems crashed as the cascade of historical variables forced every piece of modern infrastructure to rewrite itself on the fly.

Deep inside a nondescript government office in Melbourne, an overworked web developer named Liam sat frozen in front of his monitor. His screen was screaming in crimson errors. The sudden temporal divergence had corrupted every major public service network. The national infrastructure portal was offline, throwing chaotic status codes across every browser window.

Liam’s heart slammed against his ribs. The server room in the hallway began to wail with warning sirens. The internal logs read that if the central administrative interface was not rebuilt and validated against web accessibility standards within ninety seconds, the entire national emergency communication grid would lock out every operator in the country.

His breath caught in his throat. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, slick with cold sweat.

He had to remember the core principles of building an accessible, unbreakable system before the failure cascade went critical.

Every single page needed an informative, unique title that placed the most important details first. He slammed into the code, hammering out structural markup to convey pure meaning, ensuring screen readers and automated engines would never get lost in a flat wall of visual chaos.

Thirty seconds left.

The screen blinked with an ominous warning: Input Validation Failure.

He had to ensure the forms were forgiving of human error, clearly showing where problems occurred and suggesting corrections instead of locking panicked users behind technical jargon. He added meaningful text alternatives to every operational graphic, ensuring that critical interactive buttons possessed distinct visible states for mouse hover, touch, and keyboard focus.

Ten seconds. The room went pitch black, illuminated only by the frantic white glow of his monitor.

Liam hit the tab key, verifying that every single control could be reached and executed by a keyboard alone, bypassing every broken mouse driver and failing touch panel across the continent. He mapped the high-contrast palettes, ensuring foreground text stood boldly apart from the background.

Three seconds.

He held his breath. The entire room went dead silent. He pressed the final compile key.

The sirens stopped. The screen settled into a crisp, clean, perfectly accessible white interface. The red warnings vanished. The emergency broadcast system was alive and stable.

Liam collapsed backward into his chair, letting out the breath he felt he had held for an eternity. The world was intact. The ecosystem was saved.

Then, the first digital notification of the new, altered reality pinged on his dashboard:

Notice: Due to the total historical absence of European rabbits across the continent since 1859, the wild emu population has grown unchecked and now legally commands seventy percent of the Australian Senate.

A life full of passion and tradition

Me capture g the stunned witnessing of dark magic…

Let’s get real!

What bothers you and why?

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Hey there, lovely readers!

Today, we’re diving into the wonderful world of pet peeves.

Yep, we’re talking about those little things that just get under your skin and make you want to scream into a pillow.

What bothers you and why? Buckle up because we’re about to take a wilde ride through some common annoyances.

1. Slow Internet

Let’s kick things off with a classic: slow internet.

Is there anything more infuriating than watching the spinning wheel of death while trying to stream your favourite show?

Or worse, when you’re in the middle of an important Zoom meeting and your screen freezes in the most unflattering way possible.

Seriously, is it too much to ask for a stable connection in the 21st century?

2. Telemarketers

Next up, telemarketers.

These persistent callers have an uncanny ability to ring just as you’re sitting down for dinner or when you’re in the middle of a relaxing bath.

The worst part?

They always seem to have the most important and irrelevant offers just for you.

“Congratulations! You’ve been selected for a free cruise!” Thanks, but I’ll pass.

3. Overly Loud Chewing

Can we talk about loud chewers for a second?

There’s something about the sound of someone chomping away on their food that can drive even the most patient person up the wall.

It’s like they’re auditioning for a role in a sound effects department.

If I wanted to hear that, I’d turn on an ASMR video.

4. Endless Email Chains

How about those never-ending email chains?

You know the ones where everyone feels the need to hit “Reply All” with their two cents.

Before you know it, your inbox looks like a novel, and you’re stuck scrolling through 47 messages just to find the original point.

Can we all agree to use “Reply All” sparingly?

5. Misbehaving Technology

Technology is supposed to make our lives easier, right?

But when your printer decides to have a meltdown right before an important deadline or your phone battery dies at 20%, it feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke.

Don’t even get me started on autocorrect—no, I did not mean “ducking.”

6. Slow Walkers

And then there are the slow walkers.

You’re in a hurry, weaving through the crowd like a ninja, and then you get stuck behind someone who seems to be taking a leisurely Sunday stroll on a Tuesday morning.

It’s like they’re walking through molasses, and all you can do is smile politely and wait for an opening.

7. Leftovers with No Expiration Date

Here’s a fun one: leftovers in the fridge with no expiration date.

Is this container of spaghetti from last week or last month? Who knows!

It’s a game of culinary roulette, and the stakes are high.

Do you risk it, or do you toss it? The struggle is real.

So, there you have it—my list of things that bother me and why.

From slow internet to leftover roulette, these little annoyances can really test our patience.

But hey, they also give us something to laugh about (eventually).

What bothers you and why? Share your pet peeves in the comments below—I can’t wait to commiserate with you!

Superstitious? Me? Pfft… Unless the Universe is Listening.

Are you superstitious?

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Am I Superstitious? Let’s Just Say… It’s Complicated.

This morning, my son and his buddies threw out a dangerous question: “Are you superstitious?”

Now, logically, I want to say no. I don’t walk around tossing salt over my shoulder or fearing black cats. But if we’re being honest… I also refuse to say things like “Wow, nothing has gone wrong today!” because I know the universe is listening.

So, am I superstitious? Let’s just say I respect the possibility of unseen forces—but I’m also not afraid to test them.

Let’s break it down.

1. The ‘Don’t Jinx It’ Rule (AKA, I’m Not Stupid)

You ever confidently say something, only for life to immediately slap you in the face?

🔹 Example: “Ugh, I never get sick.” Boom—suddenly, I’m drowning in tissues and self-pity.
🔹 Pain Level: 9/10. Because why does the universe have to be so petty?

✅ How I Handle It: I knock on wood. Every time. Even if it’s fake. Even if people are watching. If I forget? You best believe I’m mentally whispering “no jinx, no jinx, no jinx” to undo the damage.

2. The ‘Something Feels Off’ Rule (My Sixth Sense is Real)

I don’t know if it’s energy, instinct, or just years of experience with people being sketchy, but if something feels wrong, I listen.

🔹 Example: Walking into a place and feeling an immediate, unexplainable sense of nope.
🔹 Pain Level: 10/10 if ignored. Because the ONE TIME I brushed it off, I ended up in a situation I never should have been in.

✅ How I Handle It: If my gut tells me to leave, I leave. No debating, no justifying. The last thing I need is to become the main character in a bad horror movie.

3. The ‘Ghosts? Prove Me Wrong’ Rule (I’m Ready for This Fight)

Unlike most people, I don’t fear ghosts, Ouija boards, or haunted places—I’m fascinated by them. Do I believe in spirits and the paranormal? Not really.

But am I willing to test it? Hell yes.

🔹 Example: While some people refuse to step foot in a haunted house, I’m the one saying, “Alright, if something’s here, show yourself.”
🔹 Pain Level: TBD. But honestly, if a ghost did prove me wrong, I’d be more excited than scared.

✅ How I Handle It: If the supernatural wants my attention, it better bring receipts. Until then, I’m keeping my skepticism and my curiosity wide open.

So, Am I Superstitious?

Let’s put it this way—I don’t live in fear of bad luck, but I also don’t poke the bear (except when it comes to ghosts, apparently).

If knocking on wood, trusting my instincts, and challenging the unknown keeps things interesting, then I’m all in.

Now, tell me—are you superstitious?

Or are you the type to laugh in the face of fate?

Drop your thoughts in the comments… but if your luck suddenly changes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

NSFW Ink Dreams: Where Would You Put Yours?

What tattoo do you want, and where would you put it?

Some people want a discreet infinity symbol on their ankle.
Others want angel wings between their shoulder blades.
Me?

I want the Joker and Harley Quinn… tangled in sin… on my inner thigh.

Yes, you read that right. I already have six tattoos—each one a slice of my story—but this?
This one’s going to be my masterpiece.

Why settle for basic when your thighs are prime real estate for chaos, colour, and the promise of a little danger?

Why the Inner Thigh, though?

Well, darling, that’s easy.

It’s hidden… until it’s not.

It’s intimate. Naughty. A secret meant to be earned.

And every time I cross my legs or shift in bed, I’ll know there’s a beautiful madness resting just beneath my skin.

The Joker, smirking with toxic charm.
Harley, wide-eyed, wild, loyal in all the wrong ways.
The ultimate ride-or-die pair—etched into my flesh, just inches from all the fun.

Honestly? If you’re going to mark your body forever, make it interesting.
Make it tell a story… or whisper one between parted thighs.

More Tattoos. More Mischief. More Me.

My body is already a canvas of secrets and symbols.

Not just to look.
But to wonder.
To imagine what else might be hiding underneath the lace and leather.

So, yes—my Joker and Harley thigh piece is still in the works.
But the rest of my skin? Hungry. Ready. Waiting for the needle to tell another scandalous tale.

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My Secret Obsession: Dark Romance Audiobooks & The Voices That Make Me Swoon

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

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What’s Something Most People Don’t Know About Me?

If you asked Chat Ludlow, the commanding king of the dark Fae and richest man on Earth, what most people don’t know about him, he’d probably smirk and say, “Everything. They only see what I let them.”

That, my friends, is what I’m aiming for here—a little mystery, a little intrigue, and a lot of fun.

So, what’s something most people don’t know about me?

Well, I’m not just a dark romance enthusiast—oh no. I’ve got layers, much like Chat’s intricate plans to make Belle his forever (cue the swoon).

My Secret Obsession? Dark Romance Audiobooks 🎧

Yup, you read that right. While I live for crafting my own sizzling stories, I’ve got another obsession that’s just as intense: dark romance audiobooks. And not just any narrators will do—no, no.

My go-tos are the deliciously deep voices of Aiden Snow and Teddy Hamilton.

There’s something about the way they bring the tension, passion, and raw emotion of a story to life that keeps me hooked for hours.

Think of it as the Chat Ludlow experience—dangerous, seductive, and oh-so-intoxicating. Much like Belle, I can’t help but swoon every time those voices take over my headphones.

Just like how Chat’s deep, commanding voice sends Belle into a fluster, audiobooks narrated by these legends have the power to take any romance to the next level.

If you’re not already obsessed, trust me—you’re missing out on the ultimate audio romance experience.

Why Audiobooks? Because They Let You Escape.

Life, much like the worlds Chat and Belle navigate, can get overwhelming.

Between work, life, and the chaos in between, we all need a way to escape. And for me, that’s pressing play on a dark romance audiobook and letting those velvety voices take me into another world.

It’s a bit like falling headfirst into one of Chat’s steamy power games—except this time, it’s Aiden Snow telling me all the dirty details, and I don’t have to lift a finger.

When you listen to Aiden Snow or Teddy Hamilton, it’s like having your very own Chat Ludlow right in your ear, whispering all those dangerously sweet nothings.

What’s not to love? You can dive into a world of Fae kings, ruthless CEOs, and unrelenting passion—all while folding your laundry (because multitasking is key, am I right?).

Everyone loves a good escape.

Whether you’re listening to a podcast or, like me, you’re falling for a brooding fictional alpha on audio, there’s something magical about immersive experiences.

What This Says About Me (and Chat)

Now, I know what you’re thinking—What does an obsession with dark romance audiobooks have to do with writing or being Chat Ludlow’s obsession?

Well, everything, actually. People expect you to be a certain way based on what you create, but there’s always more beneath the surface.

For example, Chat may come off as a dominant, ruthless man in control of everything, but underneath it all, he’s fiercely in love with Belle—someone who softens his edges and makes him vulnerable.

Similarly, when I’m not writing, I’m melting into the worlds created by my favourite narrators, where love, danger, and passion intertwine in a way that’s just so satisfying.

Your Turn: What Don’t People Know About You?

Okay, now it’s your turn. I’ve spilled my secret—dark romance audiobooks narrated by the dreamy Aiden Snow and Teddy Hamilton. Chef’s kiss, right?

What’s something about you that people don’t expect?

Do you also escape into stories when life gets overwhelming, or is there another secret passion you’re hiding?

Drop a comment below and tell me your favourite audiobook narrator or what surprising hobby you’re obsessed with.

You never know—you might just find a fellow audiobook addict (and I’ll definitely be here fangirling alongside you).

#DarkRomance #AudioBooks #AudiobookAddict #SecretObsession #AidenSnow #TeddyHamilton

From ghosts to dry tacos find out what bothers me most and why.
#dailyprompt #dailyprompt2000 #questionoftheday #communication #keystosucess #foodporn #lifehacks #friendships #tacos #erykahbadu #onandon #greyhound #writerslife #lifesmysteries #qotd #love

https://rickollie.com/2024/07/15/lengthy-list-of-things-that-bother-me/